


Don't kiss a witch

by PushingBackTheNight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Comforting Castiel (Supernatural), First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Protective Sam Winchester, Self-Harm, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PushingBackTheNight/pseuds/PushingBackTheNight
Summary: Dean and Sam are investigating a case where young men go missing. They discover quickly that it has to do with a witch. Nothing that the two of them haven't already mastered many times. But this witch leaves a shadow that nobody expected. (The story doesn't take place at a specific time; Castiel is already part of the game ~ Destiel! Don't like it, don't read it!)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. Witch kisses

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my mother tongue so I apologize in advance for grammatical mistakes, feel free to correct me :)

It was noon when they were leaving the cheap motel for the next monster hunt. They didn't know where this was going to take place, but they had to keep moving. Demons were on their heels, and angels probably too. They had been quiet lately, but they couldn't and couldn't trust it. The question of where they would go next was answered when Dean's cell phone rang.  
"Bobby," he just said and picked up. "What's up?...Okay...and you're sure they didn't just run away?...No...okay...we'll see that. Yes...Sure, see you then."  
"And?" Sam asked and looked at his brother.  
"Off to Richmond. Young men have been disappearing there for a few weeks. One evening they are still in their local pub, and from then on, nobody has seen them."  
Sam was about to reply something, but Dean started the car, and immediately the guitar solo from Enter Sandman struck them. Dean made no move to turn the music down, and Sam knew better than to try it.  
  
The journey took a little over three hours, during which Sam had time to roll over some books that he - to Dean's chagrin - had stowed in the back seat of the Impala. There weren't many monsters that were specialized in young men...actually none, so they faced another problem.  
"Either we are dealing with a monster that is getting its favorite snack, or it is pure coincidence that it is really only men who disappear."  
"You mean there is no monster that is generally fixated on young men?" Dean raked.  
"No, not a single one. I have no idea what it could be."  
Dean made one of his we'll-see-soon-enough-faces and turned the music up a bit. They pulled into Richmond to the sound of Highway to Hell.  
The first thing they did was get a motel room. Then they walked through the city maybe, there were some signs of what exactly made the young men disappear. Demonic omens or something like that, you never knew where a clue would come from. As usual, they drove to the parents and friends of the victims and interviewed them. It took several hours, but no matter who they spoke to, sooner or later, they always got the same statement.  
"He was in the StepIn, his favorite bar, after that, I didn't hear from him again..."  
So this StepIn was their best clue. With a bit of luck, they would find their monster and be back at the motel before midnight.  
"Sounds very promising," said Dean as they parked in front of the pub.  
"What? That we're going in there as bait? We don't even know what it is that dragged the men off...we have no idea how to kill it. I'd rather have more information," Sam replied.  
"Fine," Dean's voice began to ooze with sarcasm. "Then we just wait until the next man disappears and try to guess what kidnapped him. All right."  
He raised an eyebrow at his brother and waited for a reaction. Of course, he already knew what would come - they were brothers after all and had known each other long enough to foresee their reactions.  
"I don't mean it like that..."  
"Good, because I don't intend to sit here and wait for something to happen."  
With these words, Dean got out and went to the trunk. He took out one of his silver knives and put it in his pocket. Dean briefly considered taking a pistol with him, but if anyone noticed it, he would be thrown out of the bar in no time. So he left it with the knife. Sam only got out when he gave him another questioning and annoyed look. His brother was still too hesitant for Dean's liking when it came to such things. It was all well and good to have double and triple coverage - but that wasn't always the case. Sometimes you had to plunge into the unknown and make the best of it.  
  
The pub was no different from any other. It stank of smoke and alcohol, was poorly lit, and had several nooks and crannies in which you could withdraw if you wanted to have some private time. The people there glanced at them, as most of them did at strangers. Some looks were curious, others disinterested, few could be interpreted as hostile. It was basically the same as always when they walked into a pub - nothing new.  
Dean walked straight to the bar and ordered two beers, Sam joined him a little later. They scanned the crowd, looking for something unusual, but couldn't see anything.  
"Maybe it isn't on the road today," said Sam and sipped on his beer.  
"Or we're too early." Dean slapped his brother playfully on the shoulder. "I'll earn some money for us."  
He had seen a pool table in the corner, and on such an occasion, he could hardly say no. After all, they were almost always short of cash. He grabbed his beer and went to the table. A group of young men and women standing there, playing and laughing, and apparently just having a good time. He joined them, spent a round, and in no time had them hooked. After two or three games, he tossed his usual "let's make it more interesting" in the room and put twenty dollars on the table. The men got in, as confident of victory as they were. Dean had purposely acted a bit clumsy at the beginning to bait them.  
Sam, who had also joined the group, just grinned to himself. He continued to let his gaze wander around the room, hoping to see something unnatural, or at least a hint of something. Dean raised two hundred dollars in a snap, and that was when the others got out.  
"You screwed us a lot, but that's okay. It's not that we haven't done that often enough. You also bought us drinks, so we're probably even," said Lars when Dean put the money away.  
"May I ask you a question?" He wanted to know when they all had another beer in hand and were in a good mood.  
"Go ahead," said Phil, a guy who looked like a bear but seemed as tame as a lamb - he was something like the leader of this group.  
"My brother and I, we are studying criminology, and we have to write cases down and explain and..."  
"You want to know something about the men who are disappearing here," interjected Trish, a real beauty in Dean's eyes.  
"Just what you want to tell us. We don't want anyone to feel bad," added Sam quickly before the mood could change.  
"We don't know much. The only thing we can say for sure is that each of them had a drink with Stella before they disappeared. But without being sexist, the Witch doesn't have the power to drag boys somewhere, and they would certainly never have gone with her voluntarily," Phil jumped in again and got affirmative nods from his friends.  
Dean looked up when Phil said that one word. Many people didn't know that witches really existed. Very few believed in them anyway...but some could feel such beings despite everything. They called them witches without even knowing it was true. It was a kind of sixth sense that he himself had, at least that's what the others said.  
"Witch? Why Witch?"  
"She's forty now and still looks like twenty...besides, something happens to anyone she's angry with. She often knows days in advance when a storm is coming or something like that," explained a blonde woman who hadn't introduced herself now. "I saw her once through her window while she was handling one of those witch boards."  
"There are a lot of people who own things like that," Sam threw in again. "We have played with one of that too."  
The brothers looked at each other meaningfully and finally nodded. The moment was like a thought transfer; this hint was at least a trace to work with. Just as Dean wanted to ask about the appearance of Stella, the pub door opened and the group gave a collective groan.  
"When you talk about the devil," muttered Phil. "Let's get out of here before she'll come over and try to get involved. Bye, you two, see you."  
Dean and Sam said goodbye to the others and sat down at a table with a good view of the bar.  
Stella was a well-built woman; the curves were all in the right place, as Dean immediately noticed. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders like a waterfall, and Dean could have sworn they were moving in a (definitely non-existent) breeze. He unconsciously licked his lips and earned a slap from his brother for it.  
"What? I can't help it that she looks so hot, can I?"  
"I know, but still try to focus with the other part of your body, okay?"  
Dean raised his hands soothingly and, at the same time, shrugged his shoulders. He was focused, with both eyes on their suspect. As long as they couldn't be sure that she really was a witch, he could look, right? Maybe she was really innocent, and if that was the case, he would try his luck with her.  
"We...could ask Cas for help," Sam suddenly interjected.  
Dean felt the familiar feeling of insecurity creeping through his body. His hand wandered unconsciously to his left shoulder and pressed on the scar there from Castiel's hand. The angel drives him crazy. In his presence, he never knew how to act...so he decided what was the easiest. He snarled at him for every little thing and hoped that he didn't notice his real feelings. He couldn't imagine what Castiel would do when he found out that Dean had a crush on him! No, he would know how to prevent that.  
"Why? It's not the first Witch, and we finished the others on our own too."  
"I just thought...because he hasn't been with us for a long time."  
"You just think too much."  
Dean snorted and downed the rest of his beer. Just as he was about to get up, he saw how Stella had a small pouch disappear into the jacket pocket of a man walking by.  
"Did you see that?" He asked but kept his eyes on her.  
"A witch bag. I think we have our culprit," Sam muttered, his eyes darkened.  
"You take care of the witch bag," mumbled Dean and threw Sam the car keys.  
Sam knew what was coming next and that there was nothing he could do about it. Before he could say another word, before he could even think of it, Dean got up and started walking.  
"I'll say hello. Stay close."  
Sam cursed quietly when he saw how Dean went to the bar and accidentally pushed over the glass that Stella had just put down. It would be a long night. After initial difficulties, Stella got involved in a conversation. Sam saw how Dean slipped closer and closer to her, touched her arm or shoulder - fleeting touches, and yet they didn't miss their mark. Rolling his eyes, he too drank the last of his beer and got up.  
The man who was supposed to be Stella's victim, in the beginning, was sitting alone at a table and working on his laptop. Sam walked past him and then dropped the key to their motel room. Cursing softly, he bent down and picked it up. His hand disappeared only a fraction of a second into the man's jacket pocket. It closed around the hex bag, and he was up again and walked on. As fast as he allowed himself without looking suspicious, he marched to the toilet and burned the hex bag to destroy its spell. He tossed the leftovers into the toilet and flushed well. Then he went back to his table.  
Once there, he immediately recognized that Dean and Stella were no longer sitting at the bar.  
"Great, Dean..." he growled, threw the money for their drinks on the table, and ran to the car.  
  
"Are you really sure you want to take me with you?" Dean asked again when they were on the way to Stella's car.  
"Of course," she smiled and let him get in first. "I don't meet a gentleman like you every day. I have to take advantage of that."  
The whole trip, Dean hoped that Sam had seen them leave the bar. One thing was certain, he could use the knife in his pocket, but he didn't think Stella would let it get that far.  
The drive took about half an hour, and by the time they finally stopped in front of a house, Dean's nerves were on edge. The car was filled with such an intoxicating, aphrodisiac smell that he had to use all his willpower not to get his hands on Stella. For a moment, he wondered why she didn't say anything about it - surely the others hadn't held back that much - but then the smell became more intense. She was trying to change his mind and get him going. A low moan came over his lips, which he disguised as a yawn, only to be confronted with the question of whether he was bored.  
"No...I just had a long night yesterday, that's all."  
He put on his most charming smile, just hoping not to get exposed. Stella grinned to herself, probably looking forward to doing what had happened to the others with Dean.  
On the way to her front door, she grabbed Dean's hand, and he had the feeling as if every touch from her would lead sparks directly to his crotch. That was probably how she got the other men around.  
That scent that attracted them; the hex bags, which were certainly there to make men willing; the bewitched touches that would drive anyone crazy.  
Dean couldn't remember entering the house, but just a moment later he found himself with his back crushed against the wall. Stella's hands wandered over his torso, unbuttoned his shirt, stroked his skin. Dean's breath went faster, unsteady, excited. He felt his pants tighten and prayed that Sam would hurry up. No matter how well he controlled himself, at some point, his body would no longer be able to resist - regardless if he wanted to or not. The hand, which was just on his chest, wandered lower and drew another gasp from him.  
"I really like gentlemen, Dean,' Stella mumbled, biting his neck lightly. "But you can touch what you see."  
"If you say so," moaned Dean and wondered at the same moment since when he reacted so submissively to women.  
Carefully he put his hands on her shoulders and let them slide over her arms to her hips. He pulled Stella closer to him, even if he'd rather push her away. Her lips continued to travel down his neck, sucking and kissing below his ear. Just a moment later, Dean heard a whisper.  
"What do you say?" He asked and wanted to push her away a bit, but Stella wouldn't let him.  
"Nothing, nothing," she laughed quietly.  
The whisper started again, and with every word, Dean believed that he was getting weaker. His arms got so heavy that they just drooped, his mind got slow-moving and sticky, like honey.  
He knew he had to do something, but not what. There was something dangerous in the room...but where? Where? Maybe it had something to do with the whispers? What did the whispers mean? He couldn't understand the words...His legs went weak, just buckled, and he fell to the floor. Dean felt the impact as the back of his head met the floor. Lights exploded in front of his eyes, turning into several colors he didn't recognize. He wanted to get up, but something was pressing against his chest, holding him to the floor, and his strength was waning more and more.  
Suddenly there was a bang above him, and the weight was torn from his chest. With the weight, this paralyzing feeling also disappeared. Dean shook his head to get the last of the drowsiness out of his mind as quickly as possible.  
"Samy..." he muttered, getting to his feet. "Did you get her?"  
"Not quite, honey," came Stella's voice. "So you're hunters. It's just too bad that I've already started to drink your energy. Thank you for letting me get in your pants so readily, Dean."  
A growl came from Dean's lips when he heard that.  
"Just so we can take you down! I would never really get involved with something like you...with such a monster! Witches are just disgusting!"  
Only seconds after the last word had left his mouth, Sam flew through the air and was thrown against the nearest wall. Dean saw how he dropped to the ground and remained motionless. But he didn't have time to run to him. Because in the next instant, invisible hands pulled him to Stella. He had to act quickly, otherwise, it was all over. While he was being pulled to her, his hand disappeared into his trouser pocket. Only a blink of an eye later, he hit Stella with a power that forced the air out of his lungs. But he was happy to accept that. Because at that very moment, the invisible power disappeared again. Dean took a step back and grinned confidently at Stella - his knife stuck out from her chest.  
"How did you…"  
"Well, I have my tricks too!"  
Stella sank to the floor and stared up at Dean, who returned her gaze mercilessly. He could see the light in her eyes slowly fade. But even as that was happening, he heard how she mutter words. Words he didn't understand...magic words.  
"Your spells don't help you anymore, bitch," he growled.  
It was only seconds before she died, seconds that probably seemed endless to her. But when finally all life had drained from her body, a smile lay on her face.  
Dean was uneasy about this fact. With a shudder, he pulled his knife from her chest and turned. Sam got up and picked up the gun again.  
"Where have you been? I almost became witch food!" Dean snapped at him but was still happy to see his brother.  
"But only almost," he replied.  
Both of them couldn't help but grin. Finally, one problem was solved, and they would really get back to the motel before midnight.  
On the way out, Sam tossed Dean the key and finally got into the car on the passenger side.  
"Actually, we deserved to celebrate," said Dean, but he already knew Sam's answer.  
"I don't feel like spending another hour in a bar. I just want to go to bed."  
Dean nodded and drove off. Bed didn't sound bad either...especially not if your life energy had been sucked out by a witch.


	2. Cursed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter.  
> Our poor, poor Dean has to deal with someting, that will change his behavior.  
> I feel so sorry for him T.T But I love to suffer with him /.\

On the way back to the motel, one thing became clearer and clearer in Dean's mind. The spell Stella used to bewitch the men didn't subside with her death. He was still aroused to an almost unbearable point, and no matter what he tried, the feeling didn't go away. So he decided to do something about it, even if he just wanted to ignore it.  
"What...do you want here?" Sam asked, slightly confused when Dean parked in front of a brothel.  
No matter how or what they went through, Dean still had a code of behavior. He wasn't going to any of these clubs...okay, at least not often. In fact, he'd only been to a brothel twice before. But that day everything was a little different.  
"Listen, the hocus-pocus of that Witch is still in my body. I can't ignore it, which is definitely part of the spell. So either I'll disappear in there for a while," Dean pointed with his thumb at the house. "Or I'll do it on my own tonight, at the motel, and..."  
"Okay! Okay, get out of here!" Sam interrupted him and waved his hand in the direction of the brothel.  
Dean nodded and got out. He really didn't want that. Most of the girls who worked in such a shady facility were treated badly and he knew that very well. Many weren't even there freely. But the urge for release clouded his thoughts so much he just couldn't help it. He just wanted to 'blow off some steam' and then they could go on.  
  
Meanwhile, Sam had grabbed a book from the back seat and was lost in it. It was a work that described all sorts of monsters and that had often been very useful. From time to time, he read it again so that he could better memorize the knowledge. Sometimes he wondered what it felt like to have no idea that these monsters really existed and to read a book like this just for fun. But this question passed relatively quickly, leaving only a bitter taste in his mouth. Neither he nor Dean would ever have such a life and, somehow, that was a good thing. After all, they helped make the world a little safer...when they weren't busy starting the next apocalypse.  
A shout from the entrance of the brothel caught his attention. Which poor lunatic had crossed the lines of the house rules? Sam knitted his eyebrows in confusion when he saw who was being led outside by the bouncer, held by the collar of his shirt. Dean tore himself away from the man and threw him a few sharp insults, as Sam suspected based on his gestures and facial expressions. Then he pulled his shirt right and trudged towards the car.  
"What's going on? Was there something wrong? Something supernatural?"  
"No idea what that was, Sam!" Dean thundered towards him and started the car. "I...the woman...we were just about to..."  
"No details, please!"  
Dean snorted and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.  
"Without details, yeah. I touched her and at first, everything was okay. But then suddenly she said, I shouldn't pinch her...I...I didn't pinch her. The - how should I put it - the hotter it got, the more often she said I would hurt her," Dean broke off and shook his head. "I would never hurt a woman, Sammy, you know that. And when I touched her...again, she started screaming as if I had stabbed a knife between her ribs. I don't know what was going on."  
It was quiet in the car for a while, and Sam could literally see how it was working in Dean's head. He tried to figure out what had happened by going over the situation over and over again. But he didn't seem to notice what Sam assumed from the fact that there was no music playing yet, and Dean's knuckles turned white, so tightly was he clinging to the steering wheel.  
"Maybe she just didn't felt like it. Could be the case," Sam tried to offer an answer to the situation.  
"I asked three times beforehand if she really wanted to because I know how the women in such sheds are often treated. I told her that if she doesn't want to, she just has to tell me and I'm not angry with her or anything. Damn it, I even offered her to pay her anyway, and she just laughed and pushed me on the bed. "  
"What happened has happened. Don't get upset, you know how people are."  
"There's something good about it. All the excitement made my problem go away. I'm just through with this day."  
The rest of the drive they were both silent, and when they entered the motel room neither of them said a word. Sam sat down on the bed he had claimed for himself, and Dean grabbed a towel from his duffle bag, only to disappear silently into the bathroom.  
  
He took his time in the shower, at least in terms of their circumstances. He just stood under the water stream for a full thirty minutes and didn't even really notice how it was getting colder.  
He tried to repeat what Stella had said because a disturbing thought had occurred to him on the way. What if she hexed him and wasn't trying to save herself? But that was nonsense...wasn't it? If he had the choice of saving himself or hexing his killer, then he would clearly choose his life. At least he could still take revenge on the person who wanted to kill him.  
However, Dean could do what he wanted he couldn't remember Stella's words. They were still in his head like a whisper, but as soon as he tried to concentrate on them, they became quieter or disappeared entirely. It was maddening.  
After another fifteen minutes, he decided it wasn't really worth it to ponder this fact. So, in the old fashion, he pushed the disturbing thoughts into the background and finished his shower. After he was dried off and dressed, he went back into the room and dropped onto his bed.  
"Man, I thought you want to grow webbed feet as long as you were in there," joked Sam, but Dean didn't respond, and that made his brother sigh.  
Her job, if you could call it that, had always been tough. They saw things that others couldn't even imagine. Fought things that others never even dreamed of in their nightmares, and each time they came back to the motel rooms a little more broken. They didn't complain because if they weren't fighting the monsters, who should? Yes, there were other hunters, and they did a good job too - still, there were just too many monsters out there. If when, after all that, it was also claimed that they hurt innocent people...young women! Dean would rather chop off his own hands than do something to an innocent woman, whether she was a prostitute or had any different job.  
"You want a beer, tt?" Sam started another attempt to get into a conversation with his brother.  
"Do we have any?" Dean actually replied and switched on the TV, which was opposite the beds.  
"I was getting some when you were taking a shower."  
Sam took out two bottles of beer from next to his bed, opened them, and handed one to Dean. He reached for it and felt his brother's fingers under his. Nothing unusual, they often touched their hands, especially when they were handing each other a bottle of beer. This time, however, it seemed to be something unusual, because as soon as Dean's fingers lay on Sam's, he let out a sound of pain and let go of the bottle. It fell to the ground and shattered into several pieces. Dean was about to complain about the spilled beer when he noticed Sam's expression.  
"That's not funny..." he growled and crossed his arms over his chest.  
Yes, they teased each other a lot - very often, and Dean took his joy in it- but Sam really didn't have to make fun of the situation in the brothel. The whole thing was bad enough for Dean.  
"I...I'm not making fun of you," Sam stuttered, pressing his hand to his chest. "That damn hurt, like I was electrocuted!"  
"Sure...stop, okay?"  
Dean got up from the bed and grabbed his jacket. If Sam wanted to make fun of him, he could do it alone. Before Sam could hold him back, Dean was on the other side of the door. He just couldn't get the face of the woman in the brothel out of his head. How she looked at him in shock, as if he had tried to force her to do something she didn't want, and now Sam had to make fun of it, pretending that his touch hurts in reality.  
Snorting, he kicked a can in front of him as he walked through the streets. Dean hoped to clear his head a little. Of course, he could have stayed at the motel, but it probably wouldn't have turned out well for his brother if Sam kept making fun of him.   
He was trudging through the dark streets when suddenly noises filled the silent air. He could hear two male voices and a woman who seemed to be protesting loudly against them. An almost malicious grin appeared on his lips as he stepped into the alley from which the voices came. If the two of them molested a woman, he would make them regret going out that evening and maybe even get rid of his pent-up anger.  
In fact, there were two men, leaning loosely against a wall and between them a young woman - almost a girl, as Dean noticed it. He ran up to the three, and it quickly became clear that the woman didn't want anything to do with the two idiots.  
"I think this lady just said you should leave her alone, can that be?" Dean growled when he got to them and planted himself behind the two.  
"Mind your own business, asshole," slurred the taller of the two without even looking at him.  
Dean, however, fixed him exactly and then the girl's face. The whole situation was clearly uncomfortable and too much for her. However, there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes when she saw him and heard what he said.  
"I won't say it again," said Dean, almost growled. "Leave her alone, or you will have to deal with me."  
"With you and which army, fairy?" The smaller of the two wanted to know and a grin crept over his face as if he were putting on a distorted mask.  
"I don't need that."  
Now Dean had the undivided attention of both asses. They turned to him almost in sync, while Dean noticed that both were swaying quite a bit. Must have drunk one over their thirst. He almost felt sorry for them, but then his gaze fell on the girl again, and all pity was gone. He made an inviting gesture with his hand and waited to see who would attack first.  
It was the smaller of the two. He ran up to Dean, took a swing, and was almost simultaneously hit by Dean's fist below the chin. He let out a sound of pain that could be compared to a grunt and fell to one side.  
"One less," grinned Dean and turned to the bigger one. "You in for a dance, too?"  
The answer came in the form of a fist that must have been aimed at his cheek but hit his shoulder. Dean stumbled back a few steps but caught himself before he could tip over and straightened up again.  
"I'll teach you manners!" Shouted the man and walked up to him.  
"I do not think so."  
Dean dodged the next blow simply by jumping to the side. At the same time, he reached out himself and thundered his fist into the attacker's temple. He went down with a distorted gasp and just lay there, too. It was always shocking how quickly people could be turned off, in contrast to the monsters he usually fought against.  
Without even looking at them, he went to the girl and offered her his jacket. She took it with a smile and thanked him.  
"I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come over. Thanks!"  
"I help where I can. Shall I bring you home?"  
No, he had no further motives for that question. You never knew where the next drunk idiots were waiting. It was dangerous for a girl to be outside at this time, especially all alone.  
"That...would be very nice. But you don't have to, really not."  
"Oh, nonsense. I can't let you walk around here on your own. What if the two idiots wake up again, or there are more of that kind here. I won't bite either, I promise."  
She hesitated a moment, but when Dean offered her his arm, she finally nodded and accept it. That said, she tried. As soon as her arm touched his, she let out a sharp scream and jumped back.  
"Why are there only freaks running around here today?! What was that supposed to mean?! I'll beat them up so that I have the doll to myself and can hurt it?!" she yelled at him hysterically and backed away as he took a step she closed.  
"I...I didn't do anything...I..."  
"Just leave me alone! Otherwise, I'll call the police!"  
Dean raised his hands soothingly and wanted to explain that he had no idea what she was talking about. But then his jacket flew in his face, and the girl ran down the street.  
He stood there for a few more minutes and stared after her, while his mind tried to process what had happened. What if Sam hadn't made fun of him and his touch really hurt? Why did it all have to happen to him, what did it all mean?  
"Are you all kidding me today?" he finally muttered annoyed and made his way back.  
Maybe he should talk to Sam about it and try to find an explanation.  
It took about twenty minutes before he got back to the motel and stood in front of their room. Just as he was about to unlock, he could hear voices from inside. Sam was talking to someone...had he called Bobby or did Bobby call him? The question dissolved when he heard a rough voice that sent shivers down his spine.  
 _Cas..._  
Castiel's voice, behind the door, fell silent and Dean bit his lower lip. Of course, Cas had heard his thoughts...didn't he always do when he was thinking about him? Another reason why he didn't think of the angel at certain times.  
He tried to put the key in the lock once more and was prevented from doing so. But this time, because the door was opened.  
"Dean."  
There he was, Castiel, in all his strength and glory...was that a concerned look? Castiel worried about him, then it was probably worse than he thought.  
"Cas, good to see you," replied Dean and pushed past him, making sure that he didn't touch the angel.  
"Dean, listen, I..." Sam started, but he was interrupted by his brother.  
"I know that you didn't make fun of me," said the latter and sank down on his bed.  
With his hands hanging between his knees, he must have looked like a pile of misery. He could feel the pitty looks of his brother and friend, so he straightened his back a little and looked at the two. Sam looked back worried, and Cas...Cas looked as if he knew what was coming next.  
"I helped a girl who was molested by two guys. They were no big deal - just giant, drunk idiots. I gave her my jacket and offered to bring her home," he raised his voice a little when Sam wanted to interrupt him. "Not because I wanted to do that with her, Sam. She was practically still a child. I really just wanted to bring her home, make sure that other guys like that don't try to bother her. I offered her my arm, and...When she accepted it...she suddenly screamed in pain and backed away. I wanted to explain to her that I didn't do anything...that I couldn't help it, but by then, she was gone. It was like the woman in the brothel."  
The room fell silent for a while until Castiel took a step forward and reached out a hand to Dean's shoulder. But he jerked back and uttered a startled 'not'. If Cas touched him, he would also cause him pain, and he absolutely didn't want that - he made him hurt enough throughout their time as friends. Cas dropped his hand and gave Dean just a blank look.  
"I can help," he just said, but Dean shook his head.  
"So actually you can't do that, Cas," Sam threw in now and earned confused looks on his part. "I looked through a few books and found what could be your...problem."  
Dean watched him go to his bag and pull out a book. It took a moment to find the page he was looking for.  
"Here," he said and turned the book so that Dean and Cas could see the page. "It could be this curse. It causes people who come into contact with your skin to feel pain. The more you like them, the worse the pain gets. That's why the woman in the brothel thought you were pinching her, and I felt like someone had burned my hand. Despite it all, you do like me," Sam tried and failed to lighten the mood.  
"That basically means that I can no longer touch anyone, and vice versa, no one can touch me?"  
Sam nodded and gave Dean a pitying look. However, he shrugged his shoulders and leaned back on the bed.  
"If that's all...I thought I was going to die, Sammy. You really scared me for a moment."  
In fact, it mattered to him more than he showed. But he had seen Sam's look, the pity...again and Cas...Cas looked as if he would immediately set heaven and hell in motion to break the curse.  
"There are other aspects of the curse that you should know, Dean," Cas jumped in. "Depending on the words Stella used, the longer the curse lasts, the worse it gets. The second possibility is that you will gradually crave more and more touch, regardless of whether you really long for it or not. There will be a desire that can drive you crazy and..."  
"Let me guess," Dean interrupted him. "We don't know how the curse can be broken. So I will never again be able to touch someone without causing them pain, and at some point, I will be so desperate that I will kill myself - because one thing is clear: I will not cause pain to anyone I like if I can avoid it. Yep, I need a drink first."  
Dean got up and went to the small table that was in the corner of the room. He was careful not to touch either Sam or Castiel in any way. The rest of the beer was on the table, from which he grabbed a bottle and drank half of it.  
"We'll find out how the curse can be broken before you start going crazy," said Cas and came up to him.  
He reached out a hand again to put it on Dean's shoulder because that's what people did when someone else was sad, right? But Dean backed away again until the table was between them.  
"You should know that I don't mind a bit of pain. After all, I'm an angel and can't really be hurt by such curses."  
Dean opened his mouth to give a sharp answer, but Sam got ahead of him.  
"So if you take it seriously, this curse can harm you. It doesn't make any distinction between humans and other beings; if Dean likes the person, his touch becomes painful for them."  
Another reason to be careful that Cas doesn't touch me, thought Dean, and took another step away from the angel.  
If it was true that the more he liked the person, the more the pain would be, then Cas would likely be in very great pain. After all, he was crazy about the angel, and when that happened, Dean's feelings couldn't be stopped, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself. Better not to take any risks than to get hurt.  
He almost laughed at these thoughts because it was the pure irony that he wasn't allowed to let Castiel near him so the angel wouldn't be hurt and, in return, not to be hurt himself. Sighing, he drank the other half of the beer in his hand and went straight to the next.  
"That won't change your problem," he heard Castiel say and just shrugged his shoulders.  
"Won't make it worse either, though, and I think I've earned a drink or two."  
It wasn't just a drink or two. After two hours, Dean decided to go to sleep, admittedly not only a bit drunk. Maybe the whole thing looked different tomorrow - maybe Cas had already figured out tomorrow how to break the curse.


	3. Don't touch me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel had no answer the next morning on how to break the curse. Not even two weeks later when they were on their way to see Bobby. He had searched so hard for answers as never before because he saw what the curse was doing in Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the last chapter and here is the next one :)

Castiel had no answer the next morning on how to break the curse. Not even two weeks later when they were on their way to see Bobby. He had searched so hard for answers as never before because he saw what the curse was doing in Dean. The last two weeks have been torture for Dean, and for him and Sam who couldn't do anything to help him.  
Dean has always had a very low opinion of himself regardless of his demeanor. He didn't hate himself, but he didn't love himself either. The curse did the rest because Dean refused any kind of physical contact. Nobody was allowed to touch him, out of fear that he would injure the person. Castiel could literally watch as Dean began to long for touches and body contact and wanted to help. But Dean didn't allow it.

Two days after meeting Stella, they had discovered a vampire nest and Dean had been injured by one of the monsters. The wound was deep, looked like someone had tried to tear open his arm with a roughly planed piece of wood. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem for Castiel - one touch and everything would be forgotten. However, Dean declined the offer vehemently.  
The whole trip back to the motel, Dean sat in the passenger seat, pressed his crumpled T-shirt onto the wound, and tried to breathe evenly. It was almost unbearable, at least for Castiel. He just wanted to help, as Dean often asked when they argued. He had stopped counting how often Dean accused him of only helping them when he believed it would serve his cause. Now he wanted to help so that Dean felt better, but he didn't allow it. Nevertheless, Castiel tried again. Maybe Dean gave in after all.  
"Dean, I wouldn't even have to touch you for a whole second for the cut. I just want to..."  
"Help, I know," Dean interrupted him annoyed. "Forget it, Cas. You heard Sam. The curse can also harm you. Besides, before you burst into our lives, such injuries had to heal normally too."  
"But..."  
Dean let out a snort which cut off Castiel again, and he stayed silent now. He shook his head in frustration and disappeared from the car. If Dean didn't want his help, he could do other things that required his attention.

"That was pretty unreasonable. He just wants to help," said Sam when the familiar rustling of Cas's wings had ceased.  
"I know, I..."  
Dean shook his head. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but it was better that way. After all, Cas shouldn't find out anything about his feelings. He was an angel, damn it, and Dean was the exact opposite, at least in his own view.  
"Anyway, he's gone," mumbled Dean, leaning his head against the seat. "Could you drive faster? The wound needs to be stitched."  
"Sure."  
It still took a good twenty minutes until they got to the motel in which they stayed. Sam wanted to help Dean out of the car, but he immediately shook his head.  
Only in the past few days had he realized how often he touched others. They were actually only small gestures, fleeting touches, but there were many. While eating together, when they walked next to each other, a brotherly pat on the shoulder, touching here and there...they were all missing. Dean felt moved back a few years when he had been hunting with their father. During that time they shared no touch that had nothing to do with an injury...or blows because he had done something wrong.  
In the motel room, he went straight to the bath to take a closer look at his wound. Sam, however, let himself fall on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Dean has always been withdrawn when it comes to expressing his feelings, and this curse was not really conducive to it.  
His thoughts were interrupted when Dean came out of the bathroom and started searching his bag.  
"The first aid kit is in my bag, wait," said Sam.  
He had to look for a moment and finally held it out to Dean. That grabbed it, and a second later, Sam let out a scream and went down on his knees. Their fingertips were touching.  
"Fuck...I didn't mean to...Sammy...I..."  
Dean took a step towards him but stopped immediately. How should he help him? He couldn't even put his hand on his shoulder until the pain subsided. He let his arms hang weakly and waited until Sam stopped breathing painfully through his clenched teeth. It took a few minutes, but when he finally raised his head, he smiled at Dean.  
"Everything's good...hardly hurt at all."  
The smile was forced, and the tone of voice belied his words. Dean felt how anger rose in him, which was directed irrationally against Sam. He didn't understand why his brother had to lie in such a situation. It had hurt, otherwise, he wouldn't have screamed! Dean couldn't bear that he lied just to protect his feelings.  
"Don't talk shit. I know what it sounds like when you scream in pain," growled Dean. "Stop trying to pamper me! I can handle the truth very well."  
With that been said, he grabbed the first aid kit and went back into the bathroom.  
Sam sighed guiltily and got to his feet. His hand was still stinging from the touch. It felt like someone had rammed a red-hot knife through his fingers, up to his wrist. But he hadn't wanted to show Dean the pain so obviously. By now he had to know how his brother would react when he accidentally touched him. It was maddening.  
"Are you okay?" Suddenly a voice came from behind him, and Sam whirled around, ready to defend himself if he had to.  
"Cas!" He uttered, startled. "How long have you been here?"  
"Long enough to see Dean's reaction...He's really not doing well with this whole situation."  
"What you don't say…"  
Sam was about to say more when they both heard a panted gasp from the bathroom. Both felt the urge to go to Dean and help him. But they also knew very well that he wouldn't allow it. So they sat down at the table and stared at the tabletop until Dean came out of the bathroom.  
He swore softly to himself as he sewed the wound on his arm. He had to look in the mirror for that, which didn't make things any easier. It wasn't the first time he had to stitch himself up, but it took time and willpower to get the needle through his skin. However, by now he had found a way to make it easier for him - even if it wasn't necessarily the best, as he knew very well. Two sentences ran in a loop in his head:  
 _You deserve it for everything you've already done to others!_  
 _You little girl can't stand a little pain, ridiculous!_  
The first sentence was his own voice, the second that of his father. Yes, John had often called him a girl when he complained about discomfort, cut, or other wounds. Dean knew that everyone had different pain thresholds and that his own was much higher than that of "normal" people. Still, there was an individual level of pain that no one couldn't stand and that was okay. At least he kept saying this to others to make them feel better. But this knowledge, unfortunately, didn't prevent his thoughts from returning to what his father had said; just as little as it prevented them from bringing his self-reproaches into play.  
 _It's better that nobody can touch you. Anyone who gets involved with you ends up either with a broken heart or a broken neck. You just don't deserve to be held by anyone._  
With that in mind, it was easier to push the needle through his skin, and he hated himself for it. Another point on the list, why exactly he hated himself. Fortunately, the wound was sewn up quickly, and he could go back to Sam to at least distract himself a little. The anger at his brother was long gone, which was probably really due to the fact that he had felt it for completely irrational reasons. With a sigh, Dean stuck a large plaster over the seam and left the bathroom again.  
As soon as his gaze fell on Castiel, Dean felt a sting in his chest. It was a feeling of guilt that had been stuck in him for ages but kept coming back up again. How often did he have to insult and yell at Castiel before he was fed up with him and never came back?  
"Cas, I...I'm sorry that I..."  
"It's okay, you were in pain. People just react irritably in certain situations."  
"Yes..."  
Dean nodded but still looked down and went to his bed. Somehow it seemed to him Castiel would always apologize for him and that to himself. Idiot angel.  
"How are you?" He said suddenly again, and Dean could see exactly how difficult it was for him to stay seated.  
"Better. I mean, it's half as bad, isn't it? We've survived worse, and such a curse can't last forever."  
"No, we will find a way to break it," Sam replied encouragingly.  
"So actually it can last forever if it's not broken," said Cas.  
He probably wanted to say more, but Sam kicked his leg - not exactly subtly.  
"I mean..."  
"It's okay, Cas. I know that this is possible. You don't have to pamper me."  
For a long time, neither of them said anything. Everyone was indulging in their own thoughts, not daring to speak them out loud and thus disturbing the others in any way.

  
A few days later, they heard of a case that appeared to be werewolves. They drove to a small town, of which Dean didn't even remember the name. He was too tense, too fixated on not getting close to anyone. He held back with everything, whether it was the reservation of their room, the common meal, or something else. Dean also spoke less than before. Most of the time he just sat there and stared into space when he wasn't driving.  
Sam and Castiel couldn't prevent their worry from growing. They both hoped this new case would throw Dean off his head. At least he could vent his pent-up feelings on the monsters they killed.

"You are sure that they live here?" Dean grumbled as they parked in front of a warehouse. "Why does it always have to be warehouses? Why not a villa or something?"  
"I don't know, but I don't think that werewolves can be so inconspicuous that no neighbor will find out their secret," Sam replied with a grin, simply to ease the mood.  
Dean didn't respond. He just got out and walked around the car. From the trunk, he took his pistol, three magazines - with silver ammunition, of course - and a knife that was also made of silver. He threw the same things to Sam when he appeared next to the car.  
"How many did you guess?" He finally asked, just to be sure.  
"Five...maybe one, two more or less. I can't say for sure."  
Dean just nodded, reloaded the gun, and closed the trunk. Without waiting for Sam, he entered the warehouse and looked around quietly. Light fell through the skylights of the hall and made everything disappear into a strange penumbra. Here and there stood a wooden box, some on the ground, others on shelves that reached up to the ceiling. Otherwise, the hall seemed empty.  
"Dean, wait," whispered Sam from the door, but Dean didn't listen to him.  
He went deeper and deeper into the hall but kept a close eye on his surroundings. Nevertheless, he didn't see the movement next to him, and neither heard the soft crunch of sand under the soles of a shoe. It only took seconds until Dean hit a blow on the shoulder, and he was thrown against a box. The impact forced the air out of his lungs and left him staring at the ceiling for a moment, totally confused. Then he heard Sam scream and made his body move.  
Sam stood with his back against a shelf, the pistol out of reach on the floor. In front of him one of the werewolves, who had raised their clawed hand to tear Sam apart.  
A shot echoed through the hall and broke against the walls. Moments after the werewolf went down, three more jumped out from behind the shelves.  
One hit the gun out of Dean's hand, another grabbed Sam and threw him through the air. Before Dean could react somehow, Sam crashed into his body, and they fell to the ground. Dean's hand landed on Sam's chest, which made him scream in agony. Dean tore his hand away immediately, but Sam's eyes had already rolled back in his head, and he had passed out.  
"No, no, no...," Dean stammered and wanted to grab Sam by the shoulders to shake him - but at the last moment, he remembered the curse and dropped his hands. "Come on, Sammy. Open your eyes...Sam!"  
"Your brother isn't that tough is he?" Growled one of the werewolves.  
They had surrounded the two of them and now drew the circle closer. Dean had no eyes for it, however. Sam was lying next to him, unconscious, maybe even half-dead, and only because of him.  
"Shit...Sam...Sammy...please, open your eyes!"  
Tears welled up in Dean`s eyes when his brother didn't respond. What had he done?  
 _Cas...we...Sammy needs your help!_  
In the next moment, the familiar rustling of wings sounded, and Castiel stood next to them. It was only a split second before he understood the situation and acted. Two werewolves were dead within no time, the third ran away, but Castiel pursued it.  
Dean just sat there and continued staring at his brother. He still didn't move, and Dean couldn't help him, shake him, or somehow rouse him out of his faint...damn he couldn't even check if his heart was beating at all! Panic spread inside him. What if Sam suffered permanent damage? Oh god, what if he killed him?!  
Dean felt his breath quicken, and his chest tighten. That couldn't be! He was here to protect Sam, not to kill him! He must be able to do something! Castiel was the only one who could do something for his brother now.  
 _Cas! Leave the werewolf! Come back please! Sam needs you!_  
As quick as before, the rustling of wings sounded, and Castiel was kneeling next to them. His eyes hung briefly on Dean, then he looked over to Sam.  
"What happened?" He asked, looking over the unconscious man.  
"The werewolves...it...it was an ambush. One of them threw Sam on me...while...I...I had my hand on his chest...Cas...I...Help him, please!" Dean stammered, much too fast and anxious.  
"Dean," the angel's rough and calming dark voice tore him out of his panic. "Sam is fine. He has no injuries. His body and mind just couldn't take the pain and has...shut down? Can you say that?"  
Dean let out his bated breath and massaged his forehead with one hand. A gesture he always made when he was relieved about something.  
"So you mean he is not dead and will not suffer any permanent damage?"  
Castiel looked at him for a moment and then shook his head.  
"He will probably be tired and have a headache. But otherwise, everything is fine with him."  
"Please take him away from here, Cas...Take him to the motel," whispered Dean.  
"But...," but Castiel interrupted himself. "And you?"  
"I'll follow you. Baby is outside, and you couldn't take me with you either way...you can't touch me."  
Castiel wanted to reply something, but then he saw Dean's look - so full of guilt, but also relief and so many other feelings. He could only hold them back with great effort. and Castiel knew how much he hated losing control in front of others. He knew that Dean wanted to be alone, to collect himself to get his feelings under control again, and he wouldn't deny him that. So he put two fingers on Sam's forehead, and in the next moment, they were gone.  
As soon as Dean was alone, he let out a scream and wrapped his arms around himself. The tears, which he had held back, now took over and ran unstoppably down his cheeks. He allowed it - there was no one left to see him. All the pent-up feelings of the last few days dug their way out of the hole in which Dean had buried them. Doubt, fear, self-loathing, guilt...and loneliness, especially loneliness.  
Dean knew it was irrational! He wasn't lonely, Sam was always with him and Castiel often enough. This loneliness wasn't because he was really alone. The curse created that feeling, and he hated it. It wasn't like he always felt it anyway, like a gnawing in the back of his mind, but usually, he could suppress it, push it further into the background, and he was okay again. But with this curse, he couldn't do that...Whenever he thought he had pushed it into the background, it came back with a force that took his breath away, and as if that weren't enough, the guilty feelings about Sam were added.  
"Didn't think you were such a crybaby, Winchester."  
Dean spun around and stared into the face of the werewolf who had run away earlier. So Cas really hadn't caught it.  
"Fuck..."  
The man in front of him just laughed and then got into an attacking pose. He was gracious enough to wait until Dean got up and got ready too. If he managed to distract the werewolf long enough until he could get his pistol...A moment later, the man thundered against him and threw him to the ground. Dean gave him a few kicks and punches, but he wasn't able to harm the monster.  
Dean stretched his arm to the side and tried to reach his pistol.  
The werewolf's claws dug into his arms, chest, and side. Dean felt how it tore open his skin, and blood oozed from them.  
 _If I die now..._  
But he couldn't think any further, because in the next moment his hand found what he had been looking for all the time. He took the pistol firmly in his hand, cocked the hammer, and pressed it directly against the forehead of the werewolf.  
"Greet your buddies!" Growled Dean and pulled the trigger.  
The bang made his ears ring, but at least he wasn't torn to pieces. Dean lay still for a moment to catch his breath, then pushed the dead body off of him and rolled over to the side. With gritted teeth, he pulled himself to his feet and held onto one of the shelves.  
"Shit...," Dean uttered and took a few, wavering steps away from the shelf.  
He had to get to his car. He made it with slow steps and fell heavily behind the wheel. The loss of blood clouded his brain and made thinking difficult. Nevertheless, he started the car and drove off.  
He made two wrong turns because he couldn't read the signs correctly, and so it took almost half an hour longer than normal to get to the motel. With slow, unsteady steps, he went to the door. Only on the third attempt, he was able to open it and found himself faced with a helpless looking Sam and an angry Castiel. They seemed to have been talking about something but fall silent when Dean opened the door.  
"Shit!" Gasped Sam.  
"Dean! What happened?"  
Both jumped up from their seats and ran to him. But Dean raised his hands defensively and took a few steps backward.  
"D...don't...touch me..." he slurred and shook his head, causing a new wave of dizziness.  
"But Dean..."  
He just raised a hand and staggered over to his bed. There he carefully sat down and sank backward. Only when he was flat on his back did he let out a low gasp.  
"What happened?" Sam wanted to know and ran to him.  
"Werewolf…"  
"That was the one I didn't get," said Castiel guiltily and caught an unbelieving, but also angry look from Sam. "Dean called me back before...He was afraid for you..."  
Dean's painful gasp let them both fall silent and turn to him again. Castiel reached out a hand to his forehead, but Dean dodged it - just with the last of his strength.  
"Don't…"  
"Dean, I..."  
"Need...just a little...sleep...morrow is better...I'm fine..." he stuttered.  
Already half asleep, which was definitely the result of the blood loss, Dean grabbed his pillow, pressed it onto his chest, and finally rolled over on his stomach to put some pressure on the deepest wounds. He knew, somewhere far back in his mind, that it was stupid to just lie down and sleep. The wounds would have to be taken care of, and actually, Sam did that, or Castiel healed him, and he would have no further problems. But that didn't work in his current situation. Still, he couldn't force himself to keep his eyes open. They just closed on their own. Before he fell asleep, however, he gave Sam and Castiel one more look.  
"Don't...you touch...me..." mumbled Dean into the mattress, and after that, his senses vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are the essence of an author's life, so please! Tell me what you think of my story :D


	4. I'm fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your Kudos and Comments :D

Castiel's gaze was fixed on Dean, and Sam was really surprised that he didn't just go up in flames because the angel stared at him so intensely. He could literally see the anger burning behind Cas's eyes. Sam understood why Cas reacted that way. They just wanted to help Dean, and he blocked everything, even the smallest offer, and that was okay, that was Dean. But right now, it was about his life! The wounds had looked really bad, and Sam was sure that his brother wouldn't wake up if they didn't do anything. Briefly, he considered calling a doctor who could patch up Dean. But what should they say about what happened to him? After all, the injuries didn't look like they were from an accident or anything else. With a little practice, the doctor would realize they were from an animal attack, and since there weren't such large animals here, it would raise questions - questions they couldn't answer. So this possibility was canceled. Sam sat on his bed and stared thoughtfully at his brother. They had to do something.

In Castiel, however, actually raged a fire that threatened to devour everything of him. He didn't understand why Dean wouldn't let him help. After every damn insult and threat he threw at him again and again, he must hate him! Which meant that Castiel was in no danger of feeling any pain. So why the hell didn't Dean want to be touched? He couldn't be serious! There had to be a way he could help his friend anyway...Dean would die in this bed if he didn't do anything, and he couldn't let that happen. His heart was too attached to the man before him.  
 _Maybe_ , whispered a voice in his mind, _he doesn't want to be touched because it's you. You've caused him pain enough times. He's probably afraid it's going to be the same again._  
Castiel banished the voice as quickly as it came. After all, it wasn't like Dean had never let him touch him. On the contrary, he was grateful every time Castiel healed him, and he had never felt uncomfortable when the angel put an arm around his shoulders or hugged him completely when they hadn't seen each other for a long time...right? No, he wasn't afraid of him.  
His thoughts came to an abrupt end when he saw how Dean's blood stained the pillow under his chest. He had to do something, otherwise, they would lose him, and that was something he wouldn't allow, no matter what Dean asked or ordered. He would heal him, even if he was banished from the life of the brothers for it. Without thinking about the consequences, Castiel took a step forward and reached out his hand.  
"I don't know if that's such a good idea..." Sam muttered and unconsciously rubbed at his chest.  
It was still hurting from Dean's touch. The pain his hand had caused was worse than anything Sam had known up to that point. Worse than dying itself. It had been...pure agony, and he was grateful that his mind and body had given up so quickly, and yet he would endure it again if that meant freeing Dean from the curse. Castiel probably thought the same...and then there was still the problem with Dean's wounds. Sam just hoped, that Castiel wouldn't faint so quickly as he did.  
"No, it's not a good idea, but what else can we do? I won't let him bleed to death and I'm sure you are on my side on this. Besides, why should the touch cause me pain?" Castiel now expressed his thoughts. "Dean...doesn't really think highly of me, does he? Otherwise, he would act differently towards me. I don't think he likes me so much that I'll feel something."  
"If you're not mistaken," Sam muttered, shaking his head.  
He knew that Castiel was wrong because he had seen the looks which his brother threw the angel. The glow in his eyes when he talked about him. Dean never said something about it...hell Sam wasn't even sure if Dean himself was aware that he loved Castiel!  
But before he could say anything, Castiel's fingers were already on his brother's forehead. At first, nothing happened, except that the bleeding stopped. Little by little the wounds on Dean's arms closed, and Sam began to doubt his skills of observation. However, he then looked at Castiel's face, which spoke volumes.  
The angel stood there with his lips pressed together as if he had to keep himself from screaming; his whole body stiffened as if he were under the force of electricity. The longer he touched Dean, the more it became clear that he was hurting. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he tried to blink them away, but they ran blood-red down his cheeks - a clear sign that he was in agonizing pain. Within fractions of a second, the room was filled with a deafening high-pitched noise, which was Castiel's true voice. Sam pressed his hands over his ears, hopelessly trying to block out the noise a little. The white-bluish light appeared in Castiel's eyes, which announced that his true form was beginning to lose control of his vessel.  
Just a blink of an eye later, Castiel collapsed and remained motionless on the floor. Sam immediately crouched down next to him and shook him.  
At the same time, Dean startled from his faint-like sleep and stared at Sam, who in turn looked helplessly at Castiel. Dean followed his gaze and paled immediately.  
"Cas!" The scream echoed unnaturally loud in the silence after Castiel's scream. "Sam, what happened?...He didn't really..."  
"I couldn't stop him," Sam replied and got down on his knees next to Castiel. "He just wanted to help you..."  
He turned him onto his back and put two fingers to his neck to see if he could feel his pulse.  
"Damn it, do angels even have a pulse at all?" Dean muttered and let himself sink from the bed to the floor.  
He noticed that Sam examined Castiel's body and said something, but not what exactly. His full attention was on Castiel. Dean wanted to shake him, to punch him so hard that he just had to wake up from it. But his hands were only inches above Castiel's face. What could he do? Nothing! He was useless!  
The helplessness, which he had also felt when Sam had passed out because of him, attacked his body again and made him slump. He had hurt Cas even though he had sworn he would never let it get that far again. He looked guilty at his hands, which were clenched into fists, so tight that his knuckles turned white.  
"Shit..." he wispered under his breath, when he felt tears well up in his eyes again.  
"Don't worry, he'll be fine," he heard Sam say. "His body wasn't damaged. He's probably just knocked out, like me before."  
"Not helpful, Sam..."  
Dean hated how much his voice was trembling and how hard he had to try not to burst into tears again. God how much he hated that curse and himself for it. How could one be so stupid and believe a witch would save her life rather than destroy the life of her murderer?  
The feeling that ate Dean's guts changed suddenly when Castiel's eyes fluttered, and he finally opened them all the way. There was still pain in them, but there was also something else...something Dean couldn't assign.  
"That was...unexpected," the angel murmured and slowly sat up.  
"Unexpected? Unexp...Castiel!" Dean's roar made his opposite flinch.  
Castiel jumped to his feet and spun around, ready to defend himself against anything and everything. Apparently, he wasn't fully back in the here and now.  
"Fucking hell, that was stupid and nothing else! You could have died, you idiot!"  
He went up to Castiel with a threateningly outstretched finger, which made the Angel retreat unconsciously. Immediately Cas regretted this gesture and took step towards Dean. But Dean had noticed it and now _he_ backed away. He dropped his arm and bit his lip, anger, horror, but also worry and doubt were reflected on his features.  
"It's enough! I'm going to get my own room," he muttered, turned around, and stomped off.  
"Dean, I..."  
But Castiel didn't get any further, because Dean was already outside the door and had thrown it shut behind him. The impact was so hard that one of the ugly decoration pictures fell from the wall, and the glass on it broke.  
Castiel stood lost in the room and didn't know what to do. The sensations were just too much...He would have loved to run after Dean, but he also knew that it wouldn't make their whole situation any better. His eyes were still on the door, probably in the hope that Dean would come back, but that didn't happen. A stabbing of pain rose up in his chest and spread through his body. Had he hurt Dean as he backed away from him? He wasn't afraid that Dean would touch him, but his body and especially his instinct had reacted before he could do anything else.  
"I didn't mean to," he muttered, hanging his head. "I just wanted to help...just wanted to heal him..."  
"And he knows that believe me, Dean is grateful for it. But he can't stand it when someone is in pain because of him. It has always been like that."  
Castiel nodded, even if his thoughts were elsewhere. He had believed that he wouldn't be in pain. Dean didn't like him...not as much as others. He was probably the last in the list of companions who were loved by Dean Winchester. Or so he had thought. Now Castiel was no longer sure, after all, the pain had almost led to him bursting his vessel. It had felt like thousands of Angel knives were piercing his body and mind at the same time. Something like that...such a pain, he hadn't endured in his whole long life, not in the battalion of angels, not in the battle for the earth, never before.  
However, his mind couldn't understand what that meant. Probably because it was so unbelievable to him.  
"Is he coming back?" He asked Sam softly, as his thoughts seemed to be in a loop.  
"Of course. You know Dean."  
 _That's exactly what worries me_ , thought Castiel and continued to look at the door.

  
In the meantime, Dean stood, admittedly quite frustrated, at the reception desk of the motel and watched the hippie behind it, as he went through the reservations of the different rooms.  
"Sorry, man, we don't seem to have any more free rooms," he finally explained, giving Dean a sleepy look.  
"I don't care, man," Dean mimicked his tone. "Whether it's a closet or something like it. I just want my own room. Those idiots have been keeping me up for the fourth night. If I don't get some sleep soon, I'll run amok, and I don't think you want to experience that!"  
Dean was very well aware that the blood, which was still soaking his shirt and pants, wasn't exactly conducive to his situation. But he trusted the intimidating effect and was not disappointed.  
"No...no, definitely not...um..." The guy tapped the keyboard of his computer a few more times and then let out a relieved sigh. "I have one free room. Two further back, from your current one. It's just not cleaned yet...So, it would be ready in an hour?"  
The last sentence sounded more like a question than a statement to Dean. He put on his grimmest look, which wasn't really difficult for him at the moment, and stared at the man.  
"Do I look like I'm interested in the condition of the room?" He merely growled, and the key was on the table within a second.  
With a short nod, he grabbed it and stomped off to his new room.   
It was in no way different from the one he had shared with Sam. Just as tastelessly decorated, with the same dusty mattresses, ugly bed sheets, and the same disgusting bathroom.  
"Home, sweet home," he muttered and threw the key on the bedside table.  
He would have loved to run away, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. He couldn't leave Sam and Cas alone. Also all alone, he certainly wouldn't find an antidote or whatever that would free him from the curse.  
Wide awake as he was after the healing, he decided to take a shower to at least get the blood from his body. He went with a quick one - wet, soap, wash up, done. With a towel slung around his waist, he stepped out of the shower stall and ignored the slight shiver that ran through his body. Anything else was out of question, because that would have meant he had to go to Sam and Castiel's room, naked, to get some fresh clothes...and he definitely wouldn't do that! This little thought made his mind wander again on other paths, and he silently thanked the fact that the heating in this room was probably not working. If he had stood under the warm water for longer, his thoughts would have moved in different circles again, and as touch starved as he felt at the moment, it would be a shitty idea to give in to this need. It would be a disaster if Cas would appear in the bathroom while he was satisfying himself. Better not!  
Speaking of Castiel, Dean wondered how the angel was doing. Did he finally get fed up with him? After all, Dean had been the one who hurt him again...  
 _And you didn't even have the balls to apologize! You just ran away, you bum!_ He shouted at himself in his mind.  
Dean propped himself up on the sink and stared at his reflection. He looked first at his chest, which had been torn a few minutes ago and on which white lines could now be seen; then his neck - which was also covered with new scars and finally his eyes. But he didn't look into his own green eyes; he saw blue ones, so full of pain and...something else. Surprise? Amazement? Disbelief maybe? Dean couldn't tell, only that they were Castiel's eyes that looked back from the mirror, like a few minutes ago in the other room.  
 _Stupid angel!_  
Yes, he just wanted to help, and Dean was grateful for it, but now he would probably never show up in his life again. The secret was out, which made Dean feel downright dirty.  
He loved an angel. He wanted to be with an angel...God, he wanted to do so much with Castiel, and some of it was really not suitable for minors. Was there anything worse than wanting to seduce an angel? Dean was nowhere near what one could call a typical believer. He only believed in beings he saw, against whom he had already fought, and he had fought with angels. It was also true that they were basically pure beings, but they were just as susceptible to worldly vices as humans - which had been confirmed again and again in the past few years. Still, it felt like a crime when his feelings for Castiel get out of hand.  
The whole situation was just too much for Dean. He could control his feelings, had learned from an early age to put them on the back burner, but this curse ruined everything! The need for affection, for touch, was like a tingling sensation under his skin that he couldn't really ignore. It burned like a fire in him that threatened to devour everything. But he would be damned if he hurt the ones he loved because of it. He would rather numb his feelings with alcohol and be in a bad mood all day because of it.  
This is exactly what he was doing now, and he didn’t care that he was drinking while only covered with a towel and with goosebumps covering his body. The minibar in the room was riddled with cheap alcohol, which was probably being sold far too overpriced, and Dean didn't care how much he had to pay the next day. He grabbed the two bottles of whiskey and placed them on the table. He doesn't even bother to get a glass but drank straight from the bottle. After the first one was emptied, a pleasantly warm feeling had spread in his head, and he knew that, after another half, a comfortable sleepiness would set in.  
 _You are an idiot, and you know that..._ a voice muttered in his head. _Just like your father. He also drowned his problems, which had nothing to do with monsters, in alcohol..._  
Dean knew it was true. He had watched John drink himself to sleep often enough. Although he had always been clear enough that he could have fought if it was necessary, Dean had vowed never to be like that - and now he was sitting in a shabby motel room and doing the same as his father.  
But that didn't matter, the self-reproaches grew softer with every sip until they fell silent. Smiling happily, Dean went to the bed and let himself fall on it. He was lying facedown and yawned heavily.  
But then he pulled himself up again and pulled the covers out from under his body to snuggle into. Another habit the curse had brought to light - he craved body closeness so much that he tried to recreate it by all means. That was also the reason why, for the second time that evening, he reached for his pillow and the one of the second bed and pressed them against his chest and stomach. He literally snuggled up to them like he would have if a human lay next to him...or a certain angel. With the illusion of a body beside him, Dean fell into a restless sleep.  
He had strange dreams about things he couldn't describe...colors, sounds, sometimes shadows...things that scared him and made him toss and turn; Things that he believed would eat him alive, even though he didn't even know if they were living beings or something else. But suddenly, there was a familiar rustling, like wings, and then a rough and at the same time soft voice. Shortly after, his nightmares calmed down until they completely disappeared.

All night long Castiel sat on the bed next to Dean and whispered soothing words. He was tempted to make his dreams easier immediately, but he was afraid of Dean's reaction. He knew that he would feel pain, and he would have accepted it. But Dean? He would probably make his thoughts from before come true, sit in the Impala, and disappear. He had to prevent that in any case, and so he just sat there, whispering his gentle words and hoping that they would keep the nightmares away.

At six o'clock suddenly, there was a movement in Dean's body. Getting up at the same time for years had its advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, he didn't need an alarm clock, even if he'd had too much to drink like the night before; but on the other hand, if he had the chance, he couldn't sleep late, like this morning.  
Even before Dean opened his eyes, he felt that he wasn't alone in the room. In his mind, he cursed himself for not taking his pistol with him. But there was nothing that could be done about that. Nevertheless, he had to try to get the upper hand and that meant using his element of surprise.  
Without thinking about it for long, he threw himself to the foot of the bed where the intruder was sitting and hoped to knock them out before they could react. With horror, he realized that it was Castiel who sat there and looked at him in surprise. At the last second, Dean managed to throw himself to the side and landed on the floor, instead on top of the angel.  
"Damn it, Cas!" He yelled immediately and jumped up. "What are you doing here? Fuck...What if I fell on you!"  
"Dean..."  
"Isn't it enough that you passed out last night and that only because you touched me?" Dean yelled on and was absolutely not letting himself put off.  
"Dean."  
"What would have happened if I would have fallen on you and you don't get out from under me?! What if the pain gets so much that you injure your vessel or worse, destroy it?! What if..."  
"Dean!" This time Castiel yelled back at him because he knew that he could only get through to Dean in this way.  
At the same time, he jumped up from the bed and startled Dean so much, he stumbled two steps backward and finally fell. With a painful hiss, he landed on the floor and was about to break into another rant when the blanket landed on his lap.  
"If you have to yell at me unnecessarily, at least get dressed!"  
Only then did Dean realize that he had stood completely naked in front of Castiel, and immediately his entire face turned red like a tomato. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again immediately and looked away. He prayed the ground would open beneath him to swallow him, but he wasn't that lucky.  
"I...I...don't have any clothes here. Just the old...tattered ones," he finally grumbled.  
When he looked up, Castiel was gone. Sighing, Dean pulled himself to his feet and wrapped the blanket around his hips.  
"Well done, you idiot," he snapped at himself. "Now you surelly have managed to stop him from talking to you."  
"Do you really believe that, yes?" Castiel's deep, smoky voice rang out from behind him.  
Dean turned around and almost bumped into the angel for the second time. Castiel was so close to him that Dean blushed again. Was the Angel doing that on purpose?  
"Why shouldn't I want to talk to you anymore? I've put your body and mind back together and healed you dozens of times," Castiel made a vague gesture in the direction of Dean's body. "There's nothing I haven't seen and even touched if you want to call it that."  
Another time Dean stumbled away from Castiel. How could he say that so easily? So completely without any shame? Dean opened his mouth again to reply something, but clothes landed on his face. He recognized the mute hint and got dressed - Castiel even did him the favor of turning his back on him until he was done with it.  
"I'm...I'm sorry, Cas," Dean finally mumbled and let himself sink back onto the bed. "I don't know why I..."  
"But I know," he was gently interrupted by the angel. "How should you react differently in your condition? I see how much the curse torments you, and I want to help you, but that is only possible if you let me. I maybe could find a way to break the curse if you let me touch..."  
"No, Cas!" Shouted Dean, louder than intended, and immediately dropped his head and voice again. "No...I don't want you to hurt yourself. I don't want to be the reason you're in pain. You mean a lot to...you belong to the family, and I take care of my family no matter what."  
"But you are suffering and I can't see it anymore," Castiel replied and there was so much affection in his voice that Dean's chest was filled with a warm feeling.  
"It's okay...I'm fine, really."  
Castiel snorted and shook his head. He knew that Dean was not fine, he could see it - in his posture, his demeanor, his facial features; he heard it in his words, his voice, and he felt it in his looks and the tension that did not seem to leave his body. But he was used to all of these things, just like Dean. Castiel's heart hurt when he saw how much suffering and soul pain Dean endured, buried deep in himself, and how he worked more and more into himself.  
Castiel cleared his throat and turned away from Dean. He couldn't bear to continue to see that lost look he was trying so hard to hide. If Dean didn't want to talk about it, Castiel couldn't force him and that made him put on a neutral mask.  
"Bobby said he might have found a solution to the curse, but he didn't want to discuss it on the phone," Castiel said finally. "We should hurry up."  
And then he was gone again.  
Sighing, Dean rubbed his hands over his face and finally let them rest on his eyes. That would surely be a pleasant trip...he was already arming himself against any kind of reproach or need for an explanation from Sam and the iron silence of Castiel. He could handle that, it had always been like that...He just didn't want them to worry about him or, worse, pity him. He couldn't stand that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to write Bobby xD


	5. Lost and found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a little longer for this chapter. Work was hell this week and I hadn't much time to write /.\
> 
> Warning for slightly self harm in this chapter! It's not to graphic, but still there!

Ten minutes later, he and Sam were sitting in the car and waiting for Castiel to finally join them. He had offered to pay for the rooms so that Dean and Sam could stow their bags in the car.  
"We can go," sounded Cas's voice suddenly from the back seat and shocked them both.  
"Damn, every time..." Dean growled as he started the engine.  
"I thought you would have got used to it, but that would certainly be...wishful thinking," Cas thought aloud.  
In the next moment, Dean turned on the music to fade out the conversation between Sam and Cas. He didn't want to take part in their little discussions right now before his mood got even darker.  
It wasn't far to Bobby, they had only investigated cases that were on the way so they could hopefully help Dean as soon as possible. Within two hours they got to their loved self-appointed surrogate father.   
Sam went ahead, primarily to warn Bobby in advance, and was greeted with a tight hug.  
"How is he?" Bobby asked quietly when he saw Dean and Castiel walking to the house.  
The two had never really kept their distance from each other. But now it looked like Castiel was about to jump on Dean's back, only that he didn't seem so enthusiastic about the fact and that was really something new.  
"Getting worse and worse. He took his own room for the last night, just because Cas healed him and I think he started drinking again..." Sam mumbled so as not to draw attention to his words.  
"I know that you two are making nasty remarks!" Dean grumbled when he stopped next to Sam and looked at him with dark eyes.  
Castiel stood next to him and gave Bobby a wide smile. He was always happy to see him because Bobby meant a lot to the brothers and therefore to Castiel too...even if he was sometimes confused by the sarcastic remarks of the older man.  
It was clearly visible that Bobby wanted to hug Dean too, but refrained from doing so. Sam had told him everything he knew about the curse and also about Dean's behavior.  
"Get in," he just growled instead and disappeared inside the house.  
As always, they gathered in Bobby's living room. Dean stood at the window and stared out, Sam sat on the armchair in the corner and Castiel leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Bobby went to his desk and opened a large leather-bound book.  
"So what I've been able to find out, with the little information we have, is this: the curse just gets worse over time, and at some point, you won't care if you hurt others when you touch them. You will accept it without consideration. This curse is apparently designed to kill the people who are most important to the cursed. The pain of the loved ones increases the longer the curse lasts. If they only felt a pinch at the beginning, they will faint after a week or two and after four to five weeks it can cause death..."  
"Is there something that I don't already know?" Muttered Dean and turned back to the window. "Or was it a waste of time to come here?"  
The words came harder over his lips than he had intended. Immediately he was sorry for them, but they were spoken and there was nothing he could do about that. Dean closed his eyes for a moment to get his troubled emotions under control again.  
His whole body itched like ants were crawling under his skin. To be in the same room with Bobby, Sam and Castiel was pure hell, especially after the two-hour drive. Cooped up in the Impala, with the two people he cared most about and unable to touch them, had brought him to the brink of madness. The urge to just throw himself at one of them had become unbearable. To have Bobby around now, and not even be able to hug him, after the long time in which they hadn't seen each other, was pure torture. Dean was about to lose control of himself and weighed his chances of being able to leave the room without being stopped by the other three.  
A second later a hand came to rest on his shoulder, causing him to leap in the other direction. He waited for the cry of pain, but he couldn't hear it, or the thud of an unconscious body on the floor. With a curse on his lips, he spun around and was about to yell at whoever had touched him but stopped immediately.  
"Who invited you?" He finally growled and glared at Rowena, who stood in front of him grinning.  
"That was me..." Castiel admitted.  
Dean gave him a withering look and he lowered his gaze, to stare at his feet. They both knew how much Dean hated this woman and how deep his distrust was towards her. Nevertheless, Castiel had contacted her because she was probably the only one who could help them.  
"Poor darling, that really doesn't look good," purred the witch, walked around Dean once, and examined him carefully. "It must be unbearable for you. How much do you have to hold yourself back in order not to hug one of them?"  
"That's none of your business," Dean hissed and turned his back on her.  
"So much...that's bad."  
"What does that mean?" Castiel asked straight out, without responding to Dean's angry glare.  
Rowena raised her hands theatrically and finally placed them on Dean's shoulders again. Again he leaped forward, away from everyone present. Yes, he didn't like Rowena and that wouldn't change. But her touch made the urge to hug someone even worse. He clenched his fists and forced himself to breathe calmly.  
"If it's as bad as it looks, Dean is about to lose control and that will end badly."  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her hand in his direction again. Without warning, he pushed her away and fled from the room. He could hear Sam calling his name, but he didn't react just ran out into the courtyard. There he wandered around between the cars, looking for a place where he could hide undisturbed.  
The tingling had gotten stronger, the urge to seek body closeness, almost overwhelming. Dean wrapped his arms around his own body and clenched his hands in his sides.  
"Damn witch," he swore to himself - the memory of her touch still on his shoulders.  
He fought against the urge to go back inside. Because one thing was certain, in his current state, he wouldn't be able to fight against his feelings. He was going to hurt his family and he couldn't do that.  
He was feverishly looking for a way to put his feelings back in order and to get his thoughts under control when his gaze fell on a shard of glass at his feet. He picked it up and looked at the sharp edges. If there was one thing that distracted him from other feelings, it was pain. But he had never considered hurting himself...on the other hand, he had never been in a situation like this before.  
Slowly he lowered the edge of the shard onto his arm. And already he felt it, this blockage in his brain that wanted to make sure he didn't hurt himself. He paused and continued to stare at the shard and his arm. The blockade remained. It was always there, every time he cut himself to draw the symbols which would banish the angels...every time he had to injure himself to get out of a trap. But in those moments it was easy to overcome. What was a cut compared to death? But now it stayed and seemed insurmountable. It was natural, served to prevent people from harming themselves - even if some tore it down and did it anyway.  
_And there's nothing wrong with that_ , thought Dean. _There are reasons why you hurt yourself. The thing is that it is important to get help, even if it may seem impossible or unnecessary at first._  
He knew that this wasn't a permanent solution, but at the moment he saw no other way out. So he took a deep breath and pressed the shard tighter to his skin. He felt it cut into his arm and the blockage flickered in his head. Blood pooled around the edges of the wound and began to trickle down his arm as he lifted the shard.  
Dean felt into himself and noticed how the need for touch became less - pushed into the background by the slight but permanent pain on his arm. However, it didn't go away and that made Dean reattach and cut the shard. After two minutes, there were six cuts on his arm. Each cut lessened the desire more and it made Dean smile happily...even if he knew that this was absolutely no reason to smile. It didn't take long before, with the force of a hammer blow, he realized what he had just done. What would the others say? He had to treat the wounds before anyone saw them.  
"Dean!" Castiel's voice startled him.  
He looked around for a way to hide when he already heard footsteps nearby.  
"There you are. Rowena has..." Castiel fell silent when he saw Dean's arm. "Oh god, what happened?!"  
Cas came up to him, with concern in his eyes and an outstretched hand. But Dean stopped him by backing away and shaking his head.  
"Has someone attacked you?"  
"No...I...I have..." stuttered Dean and turned so that Castiel could no longer see his arm.  
"Dean."  
It was always amazing what happened to Dean when Castiel pronounced his name in this tone...caring but also willing to rip him a new one if necessary. He looked down and dropped his shoulders. Castiel knew this attitude. He knew that he had won and that Dean would talk to him. So he took another step towards his friend and leaned forward a little so that he could look Dean in the eye.  
"I...Damn, I thought I could suppress it like that, okay?" Dean started talking. "When I'm in pain, I don't think about how much I long to be touched. That's all."  
Castiel raised an eyebrow and stared at Dean. He waited for him to continue, but he didn't. The angel considered for a moment whether he should say something, or should offer his help one more time, but decided against it. He couldn't help Dean if he didn't allow it and he wouldn't. Dean's facial expression had changed from hurt to closed and Castiel had noticed it immediately. He turned away resignedly.  
"Rowena can fix the wounds and she also has the solution to your problem," he said and slowly walked back to the house.  
"Cas! Wait!" Dean heard himself call, even before his head could decide otherwise.  
In fact, the angel stopped and turned back to him. There was a mixture of surprise and relief in his face, which Dean couldn't just ignore.  
"I...I'm sorry. I don't know what to do" Dean's voice was little more than a whisper and yet Castiel heard the words as clearly as if he were speaking them himself. "This need to touch someone...to be close to someone, even if it's just a hug...I can't stand it anymore. Everyone I want to hug will be in pain and those I could hug I don't want to. It was bad before the curse, but then I was able to suppress the feelings. Now..."  
Dean broke off and ran a hand over his face. He felt the urge to approach Castiel and hug him, to hold him tightly. But instead of walking towards him, he forced himself to take a few steps back.  
"I can't ignore it. I've tried. The desire grows stronger and I'm at the mercy of it...I can't..."  
"We have a solution," Castiel explained in a gentle tone. "You probably won't like it, but we have one...the only one to be precise."  
Dean could guess exactly what the solution would look like. But he would be damned if he'd touch someone he loved! He'd rather leave everyone alone...drive around alone and never see anyone of his family again. Actually, that was the solution to his problem, even if it was the worst for him. He would rather suffer than hurt the others. However, he would have to leave immediately. Because once he was in the house, he couldn't stop Sam, Castiel, or Bobby from touching him. They were all skilled hunters and would surely corner him. But he wouldn't allow that!  
"I'll be right after you," he mumbled and smiled at Castiel, who immediately opened his mouth to say something. "I...need a moment, okay? Let me clear my head and then I'll come in, I promise."  
Castiel looked at him disapprovingly for a moment, but Dean knew what he had to do to convince the angel. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand and finally shook his head as if he were giving in.  
"I just don't want to stand in front of Sammy so agitated, that's all...Please, just a few minutes."  
He could see how Cas's gaze wandered to his arm and indicated a guilty smile.  
"I won't do it again, I promise."  
Finally, Castiel nodded and turned away again to leave. He knew that Dean didn't like to show his weaknesses and so he wanted to give him the opportunity to collect himself. Nevertheless, Castiel had a strange feeling when he left Dean and returned to the house.  
"He's about to come in," said Castiel when he entered the room where the others were waiting. "He wanted to be alone for a moment."  
"The curse is getting stronger every minute, but that's not my problem, is it?" Rowena purred and gave Castiel a meaningful look.  
He just folded his arms over his chest and looked at the witch disparagingly. He knew the curse was getting worse and that he and Sam would end up being the ones to suffer. But what should he have done? Drag Dean by the hair into the house? Not a good idea, considering how quickly he closed up when you tried to force him. Rowena should have understood that by now. On the other hand at least, in this case, she really seemed to care about Dean's well-being.  
"Did Dean tell you how long he wanted to collect himself?" Bobby suddenly wanted to know.  
"A few minutes, nothing more."  
Bobby's typical snort sounded, which didn't fail to have an effect on those present. All eyes wandered to him, as he rolled his eyes in annoyance and stood up.  
"You don't really think he's coming in, do you?" He barked, with a knowing tone in his harsh voice. "I thought you knew him better by now, Castiel. Dean must be over the mountains!"  
Cursing to himself, Bobby ran past him to the door. The Impala was still standing, but that meant nothing. Dean knew his baby was too noticeable and easy to track. He must have taken another car, which he would change at the next opportunity.  
Nevertheless, they searched the courtyard for Dean, because it is well known that hope died last. Maybe Dean was rational for once and would listen to them. But everyone present knew Dean well enough to know that this was wishful thinking. He was gone and only God knew where he went...although they couldn't even be sure of that.  
"That stupid idiot is more likely to kill himself than hurt any of us," Bobby growled as he spread a map of the area on his desk. "Which is not wrong in itself...but just shit in this situation!"  
He slammed his hand on the table and stared grimly at the card. How are they going to find Dean without any clue?  
"I'm sorry," Castiel mumbled and looked down. "I should have known better..."  
"Damn it, yes! You should! But nothing can be done about that!" Bobby burst out and amazed everyone in the room when he pushed Castiel against the chest. "But that's normal for both of you! You just have to wear rose-colored glasses when it comes to the other!"  
With that, he turned back to the map and followed with his eyes the path which Dean would have most likely taken. Castiel looked embarrassed and amazed at Sam, who only lifted his shoulder - just as if he wanted to say 'That's exactly how it is'.  
Rowena sat in an armchair and watched the whole situation. There was only one spark left and the situation would explode. Not in a negative sense, oh no, and yet she couldn't help but deliver the explosive material.  
"I wonder why Dean doesn't just give in to his desires in a brothel. That would at least give him some relief."  
Immediately the attention was on her, which brought a smile to her lips. Sam looked at her calculatingly for a moment, but then looked down again. Bobby just shook his head...but Castiel's look was pure fire! The blue shone so brightly you could think that lightning would flash through his eyes.  
_Right on target_ , Rowena cheered inwardly but gave nothing to the outside world.  
"I just mean," she shrugged. "At least it shouldn't be difficult for him to find a girl he likes and who doesn't mind a little pain while doing the thing."  
"Dean wouldn't...", Castiel burst out but silenced himself.  
"Lovesick fool..." growled Bobby shaking his head.  
"What? I...I'm not..."  
Rowena sat back contentedly and watched the show. Sometimes she just couldn't help but help others. Especially not when they were as blind as this angel and the hunter.  
"Of course not," answered Bobby, his voice dripping with sarcasm, on Castiel's pathetic attempt to explain himself. "Boy, I have eyes in my head and they still work quite well. Apart from the fact that even a blind person would see that you have feelings for each other! Only you two idiots don't check it!"  
Castiel stood speechless and stared at Bobby. He knew that he didn't mince his words when it came to telling the truth. Nevertheless, it amazed him again and again how mercilessly he pronounced it.  
Ashamed Castiel lowered his eyes. He was afraid of such a statement. Afraid that they would send him away. After all, gay tolerance wasn't exactly widespread among people who'd grown up like Bobby, Sam, and Dean. Many shared the opinion that there should be no same-sex couples. Inwardly, Castiel was already preparing to be sent away by Sam or Bobby. After all, same-sex love hadn't been tolerated in Bobby's youth...and John had been in the Army, where, in most cases, it was best not to admit that you were gay. Then how should they react differently?  
"My goodness," Rowena suddenly called. "I can't watch that. Would you please explain to our angel here that you have nothing against gays; before he gets a seizure."  
Castiel winced when he heard her words and would have liked to disappear, but then Sam's hand lay on his arm.  
"You don't really think we'd mind, do you?" He wanted to know.  
"Well...statistically..."  
"You should have realized by now that we don't fit into any statistics." And already Sam's strong arms closed around him and pulled him into a strong, comforting hug. "I'm happy for both of you. Now we just have to make it clear to Dean that his feelings for you are not out of place."  
Castiel nodded and broke away from Sam.  
"And I've never had anything against gays. Whether girls or boys, there are only two rules. 1) If you hurt one of my boys without a good reason, I'll hurt you. 2) If they hurt you without a good reason, God help them."  
Castiel felt like a weight seemed to lift from his chest and he could breathe more freely again. They weren't prejudiced, they just accepted it. But they were also special people. Why did he think this family would condemn his love?  
"Now that's settled, could we talk about how we want to find Dean?" Asked Bobby in a serious voice.  
They all looked at the map and started making a plan.

  
Dean rolled around in his bed for hours without really being able to sleep. He felt like his entire body was on fire. Everything hurt him, every muscle...every nerve...everything was tense to the breaking point. With a groan, he straightened up and began pacing up and down the room. Restless, driven.  
It had been a week since he'd left - a bloody week. He had eaten almost nothing for that time and only drank when he was really thirsty. Besides, he hadn't slept...apart from the twenty to thirty minutes every now and then when his body and mind gave in. His sleep, however, was far from restful. He felt watched, like a hungry animal lurking in a dark corner of his mind, just waiting for him to become distracted. It lashed itself in his dreams and fell upon him like a wolf upon its prey. Each time he woke up with a scream and aimed his weapon in the empty room - firmly convinced there was a monster that wanted to eat him alive.  
As soon as he was awake, his whole body was in tension. More than once Dean had believed his muscles or his skin would tear. But worst of all, he didn't know what to do about it! No matter what he did, the feeling stayed. Just like the need to call Sam or Castiel and tell them where he was. Simply because he wanted them close, wanted to hug them.  
He reached for his cell phone and had already dialed the number in when he paused.  
"No...no, you don't!" He growled at himself and a moment later reached for his knife.  
Another routine that came up this week. As soon as the desire to call Sam, Castiel, or even Bobby got out of hand, he cut his arm. So he had to concentrate on something else. But that didn't last long because he couldn't cut deep. If he cut too deep, he would have to go to a hospital, and then they could find him.  
Dean had done everything possible to prevent his family from tracking him down. First, he'd taken a car from Bobby's yard, not the Impala. He didn't drive the car for long, however, as Bobby knew all the roadworthy cars he had around. He parked it in Sioux Falls and continued on foot. They would be looking for car thefts, and therefore, he didn't commit any. Dean wasn't going to be found the same way he'd found Sam back then - with thefts so atypical of him that it literally screamed of him. In the town next to Sioux Falls, he had rented a motel room and hadn't moved any further. He definitely didn't intend to, because no one would suspect he'd stayed around. They would surely be looking for clues that were further away.  
To be on the safe side, he had painted the door of the motel room with a sigil, which would prevent angels from finding the place and one, so Rowena couldn't find him with any spell. He only left the room to get something to eat and drink...and the food ended up almost untouched in the garbage can.  
So this is your life now, thought Dean as he looked in the bathroom mirror the next morning.  
Even a blind person would have recognized that he lacked sleep, so dark were the circles under his eyes. He had lost weight, and quite a bit. His legs felt as weak as never in his life and he thought with every step that he would collapse. There was a driven expression in the eyes, which looked back from the mirror.  
"Crap…"  
With a crack, Dean's fist thundered against the mirror, which shattered and cut into his fingers. Hissing, he sucked in air between his teeth and pressed a towel against his fingers to stop the bleeding. Back in the room, he tried to remove the small pieces of glass from the wounds, but he couldn't because his hand was shaking too much.  
"Damn, now pull yourself together! You're not a little kid!" Dean growled when suddenly the door flew open and he was thrown against the next wall.  
An invisible force held Dean there, as the demons liked to do. He tried to fight is, but couldn't. A young woman stood in the doorway, scowling at him.  
"Dean Winchester, right?" She asked in a sugar-sweet voice that didn't really match her look.  
"Who wants to know?" Growled Dean.  
The pressure on his body increased until it hurt and he thought his bones would break at any moment.  
"Let go of me, you demon bitch!"  
There was a laugh and the woman came up to him. Her look radiated a hatred that Dean hadn't seen for a long time.  
"I'm not a demon, you ass. I'm Stella's sister. Do you remember the girl you killed?"  
Dean should probably be scared, but he wasn't. On the contrary, he felt something like relief. The curse couldn't be broken without hurting Cas and Sam and he wouldn’t be able to bear it much longer, not to see them...so the vengeful witch came just right. He couldn't end his life, he had tried - sat on the bed for half an hour with the gun to his head and couldn't pull the trigger. But this witch would certainly not show any mercy.  
"Any last words?" She asked, pulling a slender dagger from behind her back.  
"Fuck you" Dean spat at her to provoke her and it worked.  
She stormed up to him and punched him on the left cheek. Dean felt how he bit his lip and blood collected in his mouth. The next moment she rammed the dagger into his left shoulder. Laughing, she turned it a little and watched as Dean tried doggedly not to scream. He could feel his muscles being cut and the blade scraping across bones. When she pulled it out, he screamed nevertheless.  
"That all you got?" He gasped and grinned a bloody grin.  
"I'm just taking my time," she replied.  
A moment later Dean felt a cut along his right hipbone that burned like fire. The woman turned away and looked around the room once, probably looking for something to keep causing him pain. She paused when her gaze fell on a sigil that she knew exactly.  
"You apparently tried to hide just from the gaze of a certain witch. Not exactly smart to treat the sigils in such a way that they only prevent a certain person from discovering you."  
She walked to the wall on which the sigil was painted and scratched at it with her dagger before Dean could say anything. Now his hiding place was no longer protected from Rowena's spells.  
"And angels are after you too. Clearly, you've really annoyed someone big."  
"Don't do that! No!" Shouted Dean when she also scratched at the second sigil.  
Shit, now Cas could enter the room and...  
"Hello, Dean."  
Castiel's voice interrupted his thoughts and caused a desire to rise in him that he couldn't really fight. The only thing that kept him from jumping at the angel's neck was the spell that was still holding him against the wall and that was a good thing.  
"I thought you might want to be there when I kill him," the witch said proudly and looked at Castiel with a smile.  
He gave her a confused look, but then he recognized the dagger in her hand. Fast and almost panicked, he looked at Dean and his eyes darkened when he saw the wounds on his body.  
"Did you do that?" He wanted to know from the witch, his voice so dark and smoky that even Dean got goosebumps all over his body.  
"Of course, he killed my sister after all," she explained, seeming to misinterpret Castiel's tone.  
He raised an eyebrow and now looked at Dean again, with the silent question of who she meant.  
"Stella," Dean pressed out.  
That was enough for Castiel. He took two steps towards the young woman and held out a hand. She couldn't react anymore when his hand came to rest on her forehead and the next moment she fell dead to the ground. Her spell on Dean disappeared and he fell also to the ground with a thud. He lay there panting and stared blankly. The pain in his body, and the pure need he felt, paralyzed him so much that he couldn't even turn his head in Castiel's direction when he said his name.  
Castiel knelt in his field of vision and now reached out a hand to Dean, who could no longer back away; just as he couldn't say anything against it, since only painful gasps came over his lips. He only managed to turn away from Castiel a little.  
And that left the angel pretty cold. He put two fingers against Dean's forehead and briefly closed his eyes. Dean just waited for a bright light to blind him and the angel to die, because that was exactly what would happen, now that another week had passed...Bobby had warned him. Tears welled up in his eyes, he didn't want to be the reason for Castiel's death!  
But it didn't get to that. Cas gritted his teeth a bit and his hand cramped, but nothing more happened. Dean's wounds closed, his muscles grew together again and the remaining glass splinters disappeared from his fingers. He sat up and looked at Castiel confused. Cas returned his gaze in silence, then reached out his hand again and brushed the tears from his cheeks.  
"I...I don't understand..." stuttered Dean and kept himself from pressing his head in Castiel's hand with all his might. "How can you...That's impossible..."  
"If you had stayed with us, you would know why that is possible," growled Castiel, got up without looking at him and walked to the door.  
Dean got up too and stumbled after Castiel. He was just able to hold back before jumping on him. Instead, he stood there with his hands clenched into fists and visibly had to stop himself from taking another step.  
"Cas, I..."  
"Save your apology, Dean! You don't mean it seriously!" Castiel roared.  
At the same time, the two lamps that had lit the room up to that point exploded. Now they were in the dark. Dean, who had already opened his mouth to respond, closed it again and looked at the floor. Again he felt tears in his eyes. Cas was probably right. After all, he didn't apologize to him very often, and when he did, he didn't ever try to change his behavior. But, the worst part was that Castiel apologized for him or looked for explanations for his behavior. Dean screwed up his eyes and fought back the tears. He felt terrible, wanted nothing more than to hug the angel...especially now that Cas didn't seem to get hurt too much. But Castiel still didn't look at him. He couldn't tell whether Cas was angry with him or not. Hell, he couldn't even tell if he was only here because Sam had asked him or if he still cared about Dean.  
When Cas finally looked at Dean again, his eyes seemed to light up with blue - a bad sign, as Dean knew. They radiated more anger than he had seen in a long time, and once again this anger was directed against him. Maybe (or hopefully?) Castiel would make short work of him now, just release him from all the shit and Dean would be grateful to him for that. In fact, Castiel reached out a hand to him, as before with the witch. Even if Dean wouldn't stop him, he screwed up his eyes and even backed away a little. His body trembled because he knew that dying hurt, and how much it hurt...but at least it was Castiel who would kill him.  
"Are...you scared of me?"  
Confusion was very evident in Castiel's face, but Dean couldn't see it because his eyes were still tightly shut. He didn't say anything, just waited for it to end. When he felt Castiel's hands on his cheeks, he was relieved and at the same time, he was actually scared. Afraid of dying, afraid of the pain, afraid of never seeing Sam again...but most of all he was afraid to look Castiel in the eyes and to recognize the same hatred as a few moments before. He didn't want to look at him and know that Castiel hated him.  
Dean had expected anything - pain and agony, a lightning strike or whatever. But not the feeling of lips on his, and hearing the rustle of wings.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and/or comments are going to lighten up my day. So, please leave some if you like my story :)


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